Paddy Long Legs
by Mrs Dionysius O'Gall
Summary: A modern AU re-telling of the classic "Daddy Long Legs". Jane is a rich benefactor of Bay Area law enforcement via his friend, Captain Hightower. Lisbon, an orphan who fled her obligations in Chicago to attend university and now the police academy, is the star cadet. At graduation, Hightower tells her about her new mysterious benefactor and the way he wishes to be repaid.
1. Graduation Day

Graduation Day

Graduation day at the SFPD Police Academy was a day often awaited with both pride and dread, exemplified by a potential for bravery, and anticipated with relief by most cadets. Every cadet's uniform was spotless and ninety-seven fresh-faced cadets were present with military bearing, ready with a crisp "Yes sir", "No sir," or "Yes ma'am", "No ma'am" whenever a ranking officer or dignitary spoke.

It was also a stressful time; and poor Teresa Lisbon, as valedictorian, bore the brunt of the stress. She had excelled in all academic, psychological and tactical areas, breaking records in test scores, marksmanship and policing tactics. She considered herself "poor" because no single living relative attended her graduation, nor did she seem to have any friends beyond a fellow cadet or two. From her perspective, this particular graduation day, like every other occasion since both of her parents had died, finally dragged to a close. In her class's locker room, Teresa surveyed the cadets she'd led for the last time. When they first met just mere months ago, their uniforms were wrinkly, their faces fresh; they still retained that freshness but now in the crisp uniforms of the SFPD. With excitement, most prepared to depart for celebrations with family members and friends before embarking on their shiny new law enforcement careers.

Teresa dropped down on the bench in front of her locker, and leaned her throbbing forehead against the cool metal of her locker. She had been on her feet since five that morning, doing everybody's bidding, reprimanded and hurried on by her nervous commanding officer, Captain Madelyn Hightower. Behind the scenes, the Captain did not always maintain that calm military bearing with which she faced the public. Tired, Teresa sighed and walked to the window, gazing out across a broad stretch of San Francisco Bay.

Graduation day was ended-quite successfully, if she said so herself. Honored guests, politicians, the city's Fathers and Mothers had all given their speeches and attended their receptions, and now were hurrying home, anxious to beat traffic by a minute or two. Teresa leaned forward, watching with curiosity-and a touch of envy-as a stream of cars and limousines they drove off the Academy grounds through its gates. In her mind, she followed first one car, then another, to their final destinations: home. If only she had one, if only she had a home! She pictured the family home in Chicago, decrepit now, deemed uninhabitable after her father's neglect and ultimate suicide. Her brothers were on their own, one in foster care. She pictured herself leaning back in a limo's plush seat and nonchalantly murmuring "Home" to the driver, even as she hoisted a beer with friends. And maybe even a special someone...

How she longed to have a family again! But Captain Hightower had told her to rise above her circumstances; that she would get into trouble on the job if she let her personal circumstances encroach on her police work.

" Lisbon to the office! Lisbon, you are wanted in the Captain's office!"

The public address system jolted her out of her reverie. Teresa wrenched herself from the window and re-faced the troubles of her life.

"Lisbon to the office! Lisbon, you are wanted in the Captain's office!" was again piously intoned, as Teresa made her way to Captain Hightower's imposing office. What could have gone wrong, she wondered. Were the buttons on a certain cadet's uniform not properly aligned? Had someone been out of step as the class marched into the graduation hall?

It was getting towards evening, and as part of the city's energy conservation efforts, the lights in the long lower hall remained unlit. As she approached, a last dignitary stood, on the verge of departure, in the open door that led to the driveway. Teresa caught only a fleeting impression of the man-and that impression consisted entirely of almost heavenly light. From behind, she saw a glorious, golden head of curls that almost seemed out of place for an adult man. He was waving an arm towards an automobile waiting in the curved drive. As it approached, head on for an instant, the headlights cast his shadow sharply against the wall inside. The shadow manifested itself as comically elongated legs and arms that ran along the floor and up the wall of the corridor. It looked, for all the world, like a huge, golden wavering daddy-long-legs.

Teresa's anxious frown gave way to quick laughter. She was by nature a very serious person-raising three brothers when your family is orphaned will do that to a girl-yet every now and then, she let herself be amused. She entered the Captain's office quite cheered by this tiny episode, and presented herself to Captain Hightower with a wry grin on her face. To her surprise, her superior was also, if not exactly smiling, at least showing positivity; she wore an expression almost as pleasant as the one she donned for visiting dignitaries.

"Sit down, Lisbon; I have something to say to you."

Teresa dropped into the nearest chair and waited with a touch of breathlessness. A car flashed past the window; Captain Hightower glanced after it.

"Did you notice the man who just left the building?"

"I only saw his back, ma'am." And his beautiful hair, she kept to herself.

Was Hightower testing her detection skills?

Captain Hightower continued. "He is one of the most generous benefactors of the Policeman's Benevolent Association, and has also given a ton of money towards improvements here at the Academy."

"Who is he?" Teresa was curious; she suspected he was a Silicon Valley tech giant, or perhaps a Napa or Sonoma wine mogul.

"I am not at liberty to mention his name; he expressly requested anonymity."

Teresa's eyes widened slightly; she was not accustomed to being summoned to the Captain's office to discuss the eccentricities of rich men with her superior.

"In the past, this man took an interest in several of our previous graduates, all male. You remember Kimball Cho and Wayne Rigsby? They were both sent through college by Mr.-er-this donor, and both have repaid with hard work and success the money that was so generously donated to them without strings."

Teresa was confused. So this rich guy paid for the college educations of some rookies before they arrived at the Academy? "Without strings?" she asked, as her face reflected her thoughts.

"Without strings," Captain Hightower reiterated. "This man does not expect any other form of payment. Uncharacteristically, the Captain smiled at her recruit, almost a conspiratorial smile. "Now here's the thing," she whispered, leaning towards Teresa, "Up until now, his generosity was directed solely towards men. And that's perfectly legal as his are private donations. Believe me, I have tried, but have never been able to interest him in the slightest degree in any girl at our feeder universities or any woman here, no matter how deserving. He does not, if I say so myself, seem to care much for women."

Silence permeated the room.

"Is something wrong with him?" Teresa blurted, since some reply seemed to be expected at this point.

"Only if you consider the great tragedies he has suffered in his life. He lost his wife and daughter to a violent crime some years ago, and though he is wealthy and believe me, quite handsome, he appears to not even date."

Teresa nodded, stunned into silence by the surprise of her normally professional Captain devolving into what almost seemed like celebrity gossip.

Captain Hightower seemed to collect herself, and continued with her usual professional demeanor. "Today at the faculty reception before graduation, the question of your future was brought up."

Hightower allowed a moment of silence to fall, then resumed in a slow, placid manner extremely trying to Teresa's suddenly fraught nerves.

"Usually, as you know, graduates are on their own as far as employment. Some find jobs locally; others may work in corporate Security, and so on. I know that opportunities, due to less public funding, are especially difficult for your class." She paused to cough. "As I said, the question of your future was brought up and your record was discussed-thoroughly discussed."

Captain Hightower appeared to glare at Teresa, with seemingly accusing eyes. Teresa actually started to feel guilty-and could tell that a blush was descending over her face-even though she couldn't remember any strikingly black pages in her record.

"Lisbon, your work here at the Academy, especially in detection and analysis, has frankly been brilliant. Pa-er, the man who just left, has offered to donate a fully paid internship at a field office of the FBI."

"The FBI?" Teresa's eyes grew wide.

Captain Hightower nodded. "He was just here to discuss the terms with me. Between you and me, they are rather unusual. Pa-I mean, this man, the donor, is even by Bay Area standards, rather odd. He has a, shall we say, perverse sense of humor. Bottom line is, he believes that you have a fresh and unusual perspective, and is planning to help you to become a criminal profiler or investigator."

"A criminal profiler or investigator?" Teresa's mind was numbed. She could only repeat Hightower's words.

"That is his wish. Whether anything will come of it, only your hard work and the future will tell. He is giving you a very generous stipend-let me tell you, you'll be living pain-free for an intern. You are to attend a quick-start class via California's CBI immediately, and then transfer to the FBI Field Office in Austin."

"Austin as in Texas?"

Teresa was shocked. She'd only ever been to Chicago, where she was from, and the Bay Area. The rest of the country was literally flyover country to her.

"The one and only. Now let's discuss the terms. Your stipend will not come from the FBI, but will be direct-deposited into your checking account once a month. In return, you will write a letter of acknowledgment once a month. That is-you are not to thank him for the money; he doesn't care to have that mentioned, but you are to write a letter telling of the progress in your studies and the details of your daily life. Just such a letter as you would write to your parents if they were living."

Teresa frowned, not quite knowing what to think. "By hand?" was all she could eke out.

"Yes, handwritten. This man is often adverse to technology from what I can tell. Anyhow, these letters will be addressed to a 'Mr. Rhett John' and will be sent in care of a PO Box, the details of which I will email you."

Hightower could tell that Teresa was dying to google the name "Rhett John." She hastily added, "Your benefactor's name is not 'Rhett John'; he prefers to remain anonymous. To you he will never be anything but 'Rhett John'. His reason in requiring the letters is that he thinks nothing so fosters attention to detail and expression as letter-writing. Since you have no family with whom to correspond, he wants you to report to him in this way; also, he wishes to track your progress. He will never answer your letters, nor take any notice of them. He detests obligatory correspondence and does not wish you to become a burden or obligation to him. If any point should ever arise where an answer would seem to be imperative-such as in the event of your being fired, which I trust will not occur-you may let me know. These monthly letters are absolutely obligatory on your part; they are the only payment that Mr. John requires, so you must be as punctual in sending them as though it were a bill that you were paying. I hope that they will always be respectful in tone and will reflect credit on your training. You must remember that you are writing to a benefactor of the San Francisco Police Department and this Academy."

Hightower paused, then added, "You do pay your bills on time, do you not."

Teresa nodded in agreement, even as her eyes longingly sought the door. Her head was a whirl of excitement, and she wished only to escape from Hightower's presence and think. She rose and took a tentative step backwards.

"If I may, Captain?"

The Captain detained her with a gesture. "I trust that you are properly grateful for this very rare good fortune that has befallen you? Not many cadets, let alone women in your position, ever have such an opportunity. You must always remember-"

'I-yes, ma'am, thank you. I think, if that's all, I must go and...check out the arrangements for the CBI training." The door closed behind her.  



	2. Arrival

The Letters of Teresa Lisbon to Mr. Paddy-Long-Legs 'Rhett John'  
Austin, TX September 24

Dear Kind-Rich-Guy-Who-Pays for Internships,

Here I am! I graduated from the CBI yesterday, and after a long day spent in airports, I arrived in Austin and processed in.

The FBI is bewildering thus far. I met your friend Dennis Abbott-oops, Supervising Agent Abbott, and the rest of my team. I will write you a description later when I'm feeling less overwhelmed; also I will tell you about my cases. Work doesn't begin until Monday morning, and this is Saturday night. But I wanted to write a letter first just to get you acquainted with one FBI intern, Teresa Lisbon.

It's weird to write letters to somebody you don't know. It's weird for me to write a letter at all-I've never written more than three or four in my life, so please overlook it if these are not perfect. Have you heard of email or texting, I wonder?

Before leaving Sacramento, Captain Hightower came to my CBI graduation and we had a very serious talk. She told me how to behave all the rest of my professional life, and especially how to behave towards a certain kind benefactor who is doing so much for me. I must take care to be "Very Respectful."

Captain Hightower, by the way, could do well to more careful herself. She has practically almost slipped and let your name out a few times. Starts with a P!

So, speaking of respect, how can I be "Very Respectful" to a person who wants to be called "Rhett John" when that's not his real name? Why couldn't you just use the internet and pick out a colorful screen name? I might as well write letters to "Dear Evidence-Bag" or "Dear Service-Weapon".

I have been thinking about you a lot since graduating from the police academy; having somebody take an interest in me after all these years makes me feel as though I sort of found a new family. It seems as though I belong to somebody again, and it's a very comfortable sensation. I must say, however, that when I think about you, my imagination has very little to work with. There are the things that I know:

I. You are blond and not bald II. You are rich III. You have suffered a terrible tragedy IV. Your name may begin with a P

Based on what I know, I suppose I could call you "Mr. Golden-Hair-Surprise". Only that's rather insulting to you, and unless you are well-acquainted with hair coloring products for men, out of your control. Or "Mr. Rich-Man", but that's also insulting to you, as though money is the only important thing about you. Besides, being rich is such a very external quality. Maybe you won't stay rich all your life; lots of smart people fall prey to Wall Street. Door Number III: having experienced personal tragedy myself, I won't go THERE.

So let's go with Door Number IV. I've decided to call you "Paddy-Long-Legs". Get it? All I ever saw of you was a skewed shadow on a wall, plus your impressive head of hair, and yes, that looked like a giant daddy long legs.

I hope you won't mind. It's just a private pet name we won't tell Captain Hightower.

In closing, please observe with what precision I obey rules-due to my training in the SFPD Academy, and now the CBI.

Yours most respectfully,  
Teresa Lisbon 


	3. October

**A/N: _In response to reviews, it is important that you understand what the original "Daddy Long Legs" was about, and its format. Spoiler alert: a benefactor, man of mystery, sponsors a girl to attend college in pre-1912 New York. The only payment requested is a monthly letter. The book is a series of letters, told in the first person. Jerusha, the protagonist, makes her way through college and falls in love with the "desirable" young uncle of her wealthy roommate. He's not only what we would call hot today, but wealthy, has a conscience, is a declared Socialist and whatever the male equivalent of a suffragette is. He soon figures out who Jerusha is-that she's his scholarship benefitee-but does not reveal himself, OR declare himself as he is quite smitten. They go on various outings, shopping, theater in NYC, etc. along with the roommates. In the meantime, another young man proposes marriage to Jerusha and she also becomes wealthier-she's now a writer who sells her first story for $1000. When she asks Daddy Long Legs what to do about the proposal, and tells him she has fallen for the "uncle" as well, she finds out that he has become very ill. Going to visit him at his mansion on Madison Avenue, she is shocked to find the "uncle" there, and thinks it's a joke. Daddy Long Legs then reveals himself._**

_**The book is in the public domain and e-book versions are generally free. And if you ever get the chance, it's also a musical written by Paul Gordon, who also has done beautiful adaptations of the works of Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte. Quite strangely, the book and musical are HUGE hits in Japan, spawning animated TV series.**_

_**The musical is making its NYC debut at the Davenport Theater in September 2015. **_

_**Now on with Chapter 3.**_

* * *

To Mr. Paddy-Long-Legs

October 1

Dear Paddy-Long-Legs,

No sooner did I write to you and assure you that I would describe all the people here, when I was immediately transferred. I'm working in the Fraud Division, Art Crimes. I have a mentor, Agent Kim Fischer, and she is nothing like the cop-recruits I knew at the Academy.

That said, I absolutely love this internship with the FBI and thank you for making it possible for me to go. Without it, I'd be waiting tables down at the Embarcadero, or serving ice cream sundaes at Ghirardelli's while I wait for an opening at a Bay Area police department. Any one of them, even Oakland, is something I'd have gone for at this point.

Instead, I'm here at the FBI and Agent Fischer says there's likely an opening for me if all goes well.

Which it will!

Speaking of Kim, I'm renting a house with three other young agents, including Kim. It's the first time I've lived with all women. Did you know that I have three brothers? It's been a little weird getting used to the dynamic.

But otherwise, I'm very, very happy at work, and so excited every moment of the day with the interesting cases I've seen, that some nights, I can scarcely sleep. You can't imagine how different it is from the police academy.

Now to what I am working on. Do you know anything about modern art? Well apparently there's a whole sub-genre of art in Texas called Texas Bluebonnet Art. The bluebonnet is the state flower, and I'm rapidly learning that Texans are quite obsessed with all things Texan. So there's a gallery here with some famous artists, and all the locals at the FBI seem to know about him. And there's fraud involved. I'm getting to work with some very big deal agents. It feels strange not working a crime involving real people, but rather objects, but Agent Fischer (Kim) is guiding me on this investigation.

One other thing: do you know how they change your name in law enforcement? Well in some places, you're given a nickname. At the academy, for example, they called me Reese, which is what my brothers sometimes called me. That, or just "T", or one I didn t like, "Reese's Pieces."

Here at the FBI, they go by last names. So I am Lisbon.

Sincerely,

Lisbon

The one and only, FBI Intern


	4. Thanksgiving

To Mr. Paddy-Long-Legs

November (Thanksgiving)

Dear Paddy-Long-Legs,

Have you ever seen this building and its campus? It was quite nice in the fall-and we had a beautiful view of the city skyline as much of the building faces the downtown. I really wish you and Captain Hightower could come out here for a visit and see the fabulous law enforcement facilities. You should see our amazing shooting range!

Since I am working in Fraud, I don't get to shoot as much as I'd like. As a regular cop, a gun would be an important tool I would be able to use when necessary. Not so much as an FBI agent, and definitely not as often in Art, though you would be surprised at some of the things we've investigated. I can't give a lot of details, but some of the cartels like to launder their money through the art world. So it's not just things like forgeries that we investigate.

I have also started working with another agent: Marcus Pike. He's a senior agent in the Art Division. Did you ever watch HBO's "Game of Thrones"? Well he looks a lot like Oberyn Martell. When I first came here, I was a little insecure, I will confess-worried that everyone would be intimidating and condescending since I am an intern. But Marcus-Agent Pike-has a way of making me feel right off as though I've known him a long time. He's very helpful and never pressures me to do anything.

So right before Thanksgiving, we (Kim, Marcus, and I) were assigned to an art heist sting operation. One of my roommates told me that I was chosen because Pike (that's what we call Marcus) saw me shooting on the range. As Captain Hightower no doubt has told you, I'm a crack shot, but according to Pike, I also have good form.

Sting operations are very difficult. I was surprised to learn this! It might seem, Paddy, that it would be a lot of fun dressing in different outfits and pretending to be someone else, but it's stressful. Pike was posing as a rich art collector, and I was his new younger wife. Kim was the ex-wife. I am happy to report that the sting was successful, and once I can give you more details, I will let you know. For now, let me tell you that I loathe wearing six-inch high heels!

Except, I think I'll tell you about Mr. "Not a Psychic". They brought in a "consultant" from the California Bureau of Investigation. I haven t looked up his background yet, but I do know he was the victim of a horrendous crime in Malibu about ten years ago. It was on "Dateline NBC", and Pike told me that "Law and Order SVU", "CSI" and "Criminal Minds" have all done variations on the story.

So for the art heist sting, Mr. "Not a Psychic" portrayed a psychic gallery owner! I spent a lot of time with him-talking and having tea in the gallery the FBI rented for the sting. I must say, he was very different-told me there was no such thing as a psychic! I'm inclined to agree with him.

We all called him "Jane". Apparently, he's known our Austin Director, Abbott, as well as Kim, and they asked him to participate.

So I am now a connoisseur of teas as well as coffee, ha ha. When the sting ended this week, Mr. "Not a Psychic" gave me his leftover boxes of tea, before returning to California. I was very surprised to discover that he wasn't flying; rather, he drives this silver kind-of-RV trailer contraption.

And now it's Thanksgiving weekend-all my roommates went to visit out of town family, so I spent it at a restaurant with Pike. He's divorced and has a kid but it's not his turn. He introduced me to the local craft brews-not a bad way to spend a day off.

Hope you had a good holiday,  
Lisbon

Still of the FBI


End file.
